Ch. 1277 - The Sword Dance

The saying “Spring fills the garden and cannot be contained” was no exaggeration here, if anything, it was a compliment.

Everywhere the eye could see, peonies of every color crowded together in full bloom, lining both sides of the Drunken Red Dust Garden. Apart from the central avenue, there were only peonies, countless blossoms dazzling to behold.

The garden itself, however, was quiet. Only a handful of people strolled through its paths.

“The Drunken Red Dust is extremely strict about who it lets in,” Shu Long said with a grin. “Ordinary folk don’t stand a chance. I’m only here because my father happens to be the county governor.”

Following Shu Long’s lead, Xu Zimo and Wu Zhaodi continued forward until they finally saw something other than flowers, a row of great halls built side by side, constructed from green and emerald bamboo.

At the entrance stood weapon racks lined with hundreds of swords, each unique in shape and design.

“Each sword here represents one of the Sword Dancers,” Shu Long explained. “When you choose a sword, the dancer associated with it will appear.”

“You seem to know this place quite well,” Wu Zhaodi said, glancing at him.

“Of course I-” Shu Long began instinctively, then caught himself. “Well, not that well. I’ve only come once or twice with friends.”

“What’s the point of choosing a sword if you can’t even see the person?” Wu Zhaodi muttered.

“That’s the art of it,” Shu Long chuckled. “You watch the sword to understand the dancer. Each sword embodies a different sword intent and style, that’s what makes it fascinating.”

Xu Zimo walked forward, his gaze sweeping across the blades. Some were cold as ice, sharp enough to chill the bones. Others burned with fiery passion. A few carried a shy, tender aura, pure and clear as spring water.

“Since you’re the regular here, Brother Shu, I’ll let you decide,” Xu Zimo said.

Without hesitation, Shu Long raised his right hand and lightly tapped three of the swords. Instantly, the blades transformed into streaks of light and flew into one of the halls.

The leftmost hall door slowly opened, and the three of them stepped inside.

Once within, Xu Zimo realized the hall was far larger than it appeared from the outside, at least several hundreds of thousands of square meters.

The space was divided into thousands of chambers, and as they walked down the corridor, they noticed that many were already occupied.

They entered a room on the left. It was simple, just three floor cushions and a wooden table with three cups of freshly brewed tea. Across from them hung a white curtain.

Before Xu Zimo could say a word, the sound of a zither drifted through the air, a melody sharp and chilling, carrying an edge of killing intent.

Behind the curtain, three graceful silhouettes appeared, faint and ethereal. Their movements flowed like blades unsheathing, each step filled with distinct sword intent. As the rhythm of the zither intensified, the sword dance began.

This was no ordinary performance. The dance seemed to seize one’s very spirit, holding every gaze captive.

Xu Zimo felt something stir within him, his own blade intent began to resonate, moving in rhythm with the dancers.

The tempo quickened, the sword dance grew fierce, and the dancers’ figures blurred into a thousand afterimages.

Beside him, Shu Long suddenly let out a low cry as his aura surged, he had broken through a realm right there on the spot.

“What an extraordinary dance,” Xu Zimo said in awe.

When the music ended, the sword dance ceased. The silhouettes behind the curtain faded away, leaving only lingering echoes in the mind.

The image of those three slender figures replayed itself again and again in memory, impossible to forget.

“The wonder of the sword dance,” Shu Long said softly, “isn’t just in its beauty, it can actually help the viewers advance in cultivation. My father once told me that the dance itself is also a lethal technique. When performed as an attack, even ghosts and gods tremble.”

“The hardest part of cultivation,” Xu Zimo mused, “is comprehension, understanding oneself and understanding heaven and earth. This sword dance we just witnessed seems to embody the strengths of countless schools of thought. Anyone who watches can gain insight from it. That alone makes it a true marvel.”

“As long as you two enjoyed it, that’s all that matters,” Shu Long said with a grin.

The door opened on its own, and the three walked out.

“Why don’t the dancers reveal themselves?” Wu Zhaodi asked curiously.

“If they did, the experience wouldn’t be pure,” Xu Zimo explained. “Comprehension should come without distraction.”

As they stepped back into the hall, laughter rang out from a nearby chamber, and a young man emerged. He bore a strong resemblance to Shu Long.

“Second Brother,” he greeted. His gaze swept over Xu Zimo and Wu Zhaodi. “Your friends? I don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

“Do I need to report to you every time I make a new friend?” Shu Long replied coolly.

The man didn’t press the issue. “Just a reminder, Elder representatives from the Three Luan Holy Lands will be at our house tonight. Father’s hosting a banquet. Don’t be late.”

“I don’t need you to tell me,” Shu Long said indifferently.

The man shrugged and walked off, unconcerned.

Watching his retreating figure, Wu Zhaodi asked, “That’s your elder brother, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never acknowledged him as such,” Shu Long said flatly. “Be careful around him.”

“What do we need to be careful of?” Wu Zhaodi asked, puzzled.

“He’s a hypocrite,” Shu Long said. “He investigates everyone I befriend, if he can’t win them over, he eliminates them.”

“You two seem to have quite the grudge,” Xu Zimo remarked.

“Forget it,” Shu Long said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “No point talking about it. Anyway, since there’s a banquet tonight, I’ll take you both home with me.”

“Will that be all right?” Wu Zhaodi asked.

“It’s fine. My father never pays me much mind anyway,” Shu Long said with a careless wave.

The three of them left the Drunken Red Dust Garden and made their way toward the Shu Heavenly Clan estate.

Meanwhile, deep within the peony garden, in a secluded chamber, a noble and graceful woman stood by the window, gazing into the distance.

“Master,” a maid said softly, pushing the door open.

“What is it?” the woman asked.

“Two unfamiliar faces have arrived at the garden,” the maid reported. “The Shu Heavenly Clan’s second young master brought them, a man and a woman. The woman seems to be at the God Meridian realm, but I couldn’t discern the man’s cultivation.”

“How intriguing,” the woman said with a faint smile. “There are all kinds of people showing up these days.”

“Shall we keep watch on them?” the maid asked.

“No need,” the woman said. “Prepare my attire. I’ll be attending the Shu Heavenly Clan’s banquet tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the maid replied, bowing before withdrawing.

The Shu Heavenly Clan estate was not vast, but it was grand, almost like a miniature fortress.

Its outer walls were built in the same style as those of Sun-Sword County itself.

When the guards at the gate saw Shu Long return, they greeted him respectfully.

Evening had fallen, and though the sky was dim, the entire estate was illuminated, red lanterns hung everywhere, the halls adorned with colorful decorations.

The three arrived at the grand reception hall of the Shu residence.

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